Return Of The Dead
by MrsWolfGirl
Summary: Hermione is dead. Gone. He tried to convince himself until one shocking night it all comes back to him


I had this overwhelming urge to write so here we are i hope you enjoy

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><p>It was late at night and Snape was hunched over his desk marking papers, he couldn't sleep, the war had left more of a mark on him than he thought. So this was his remedy when there was a knocking at his door already grouchy he heaved a heavy sigh and drawled "Enter" his wand right by his side if needed. There was a moments shuffling and he could hear his intruders, hitching breath, he heard a drop as something wet fell to the floor, like a tear or a drop of blood. Looking up reluctant to acknowledge his intruder but curious at the same time he was shocked to see the girl they all thought dead, his voice angry "Hermione?" how could she hurt him like this, she let him think of her as dead, let him have his heart crushed<p>

"Severus" she whimpered. She looked beaten, tears staining her cheeks, but blood staining her robes, there was not an inch of her visible that wasn't covered in a bruise or blood or cuts or dirt. She had not had an easy time after the war, her hand holding her side, blooding seeping from around it, stumbling she caught herself on a desk, gasping slightly "Severus, please, help me" he voice full of tears and pain she whispered "Please" once more her eyes locking with his and wondered as a flash of something flew through his eyes before he could stop it. Dropping his quill he jumped up, grabbing his wand and sweeping towards her not at all menacingly, with a flick of his wand the blood stopped pouring, the smaller cuts healing completely but the deeper ones only begin to close. He could not stop the scars.

Hermione tried to stand straight but fell her legs to weak to support her, but instead of the hard landing she had expected, she experienced a moment of weightlessness and she wondered if that was what it felt like to fly without aid of a broom or dragon before she was cradled against his warm chest, swaying ever so slightly with the moments of his body as he walked looking down, he saw her eyes searching his face for any sign of emotion, her eyelids getting heavy, Hermione began to fight the sleep

"Sleep my dear. I'll protect you" he hoped she would not remember his words in the morning. Hoped she wouldn't use them against him as they would argue and snap until they talked and admitted all, but he doubted he would ever be able to admit his feelings to this…woman. He was to use to hiding and as he placed the wreck of a woman down onto his bed, pulling the covers over her. He felt a strange sense of calm as he headed to his worn, black couch, lighting the fire and letting the soothing flames bathe his skin in their warm embrace, granting himself the pleasure of slipping into unconsciousness, into the unknown as he thought about the sleeping beauty he had back in his very quarters once more…

…Hermione slowly began to stir her head groggy a throbbing pain begin to emerge in her left temple but she froze unsure breathing in deeply her eyes still shut tight. 'I know that smell' she thought before realisation hit. She had returned to him, the one she had fought to stay alive for. And he had saved her. Slowly she sat up, her head spinning dizzily, her whole body aching, standing shakily upon her feet she suppressed the urge to stretch and turn and see if the excruciating pain she was so very used to had finally gone for good, but she knew it could not be so and that her old wounds would bother her once again and remind her constantly of their scarring presence upon her body. Standing shakily she returned to her old routine, running her hand down the side of his dark wooden wardrobe as she swung the door open quietly, her fingers lingering on the wood before she ran them along his clothes slowly, savouring how they felt before taking one of his black shirts, running her hands over the soft fabric as she headed towards the bathroom, grabbing her wand and a towel on the way, locking the door and slowly peeling off her clothes as she waited for the water to warm…

… the sound of the shower alerted him to her waking presence, if he didn't know any better he would have tried to convince himself it was all a dream and that he was imagining it, but he did know better and so he listened intently to the flow of water until it turned off, not hearing another sound from the bathroom, he moved his gaze from the fire to a nearby book, picking it up caringly his long, gently fingers flicked with uncanny accuracy to the page he had last left off and began to read, oblivious to the world around him, oblivious to her stood watching. A prickling sensation ran up his neck, He was being watched and as he looked up from his book, black eyes met brown ones….

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><p>Please R&amp;R i'll be uploading again as soon as i can<p> 


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